


Disobedience and Handling

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Fixation, Roleplay, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dick thinks he knows better than Bruce about when he's allowed to be Robin or not. In turn, he finds himself flat on his butt in the middle of a drug deal with the Bat no where to be seen.





	

“Richard.” Bruce lectured, his tone, in spite of its placidity, speaking volumes. Bruce _never_ called him Richard. “But I want to help!” He reiterated, his own voice bouncing off of the cave walls. Bruce had him cooped up in the mansion for weeks and it was making him stir crazy. Yeah okay, he got to go to school and all of that- but it all felt the same when he wasn’t allowed to be _Robin_. He could be frigging allowed to go to Wonderland and nothing would matter if he wasn’t parading around in that uniform.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” Was all Bruce said as he turned his attention away from him, the conversation over regardless of whatever else Dick had to say. He huffed, mumbling some obscenity that if was ever heard would surely get Alfred on his case with the whole, ‘gentlemen don’t speak with such filth’ or whatever sounded fancy and condescending.

Bruce had already taken precautionary measures in case Dick had decided to disobey him, which wasn’t unusual for a fifteen year old. He was also prepared for the begging, be it subtle or direct. It, of course, happened considering Dick hadn’t been ‘let out of his cage’ so to speak in weeks.

The reasoning was simple- he had end of the year tests Bruce wanted him to focus on. After that, he was allowed to be Robin again. He’d already taken the time to sit Dick down and tell him all of this. How would he look as Bruce Wayne having a kid who failed his tests? What would that say about Dick Grayson? Not a lot of good, that’s what. He knew the kid prefered the flighty persona over real life, but he had to occasionally remind him that it was just that- a persona. Dick Grayson was as much a part of Robin as Robin was apart of Dick Grayson.

So Dick needed to focus on being what people considered ‘normal’ at his age- school, friends, and so on. Robin could be put on hold for another two weeks until school finished. After that, he was welcome to parade around in nothing but those tiny little green shorts until fall if he wanted.

Besides, the particular case the Great Detective was working on didn’t really require beat-em-ups so much as it did conniving backstabbing and using some of the Wayne account in cash. Having him there would seem out of place if not all together a tip off. So, this was the perfect time to not involve Dick in what he was currently doing.

That didn’t stop his ward from trying though. At dinner he had those ridiculously adorable pouty lips on and the wide blue eyes that kept looking up at Bruce from under his bangs. He already had his night clothes on, intentionally wearing shorts since he knew he was 70% leg and that Bruce had a hard time not paying attention to anything but said legs if there wasn’t anyone to punch in the face or throw a batarang at.

He watched him put his cup up to his mouth with both hands, licking the edge with the tip of his tongue before actually drinking from it, glancing up to see if Bruce had been watching. He set it down and started to eat, being decorus and good for a few minutes- then he felt Dick’s foot brush his own, Bruce pulling away. “No.” was all he said. “Oh, _come on!_ ” Dick objected, dropping the act. He’d expected him to keep it up longer or feign ignorance- he must really have a short fuse right now. He felt kind of bad, honestly… He’d have to give him some kind of reward after he got the results from his tests. If he actually did so depended on how badly Dick decided to misbehave.

Still, he persisted. Bruce had been looking something over for Wayne enterprises before shifting his line of work. Dick had crawled into his lap, sitting comfortably- but not before taking his sweet time adjusting his butt onto Bruce’s lap, knowing very well what he was doing. “What’cha workin’ on?” He asked, rubbing his knees together like a cricket. “How I can rearrange some more money around without it being noticed for the cave again. The computer needs an upgrade after last week.” Something or other with it taking too long to get into something Dick hadn’t been present for.

“...I really can’t go?” He asked, turning around and wrapping his arms around his neck like the little snake he was being. “How many more ways would you like me to make it clear? Maybe an essay like the one you need to write in a week for your english class? Or maybe something more scientific, like hypothesizing what would happen if I took you. Or maybe you’d like me to make a baroque stylized painting about how you can’t go?” Dick huffed, annoyed with how once again Bruce brought this back to his studies.  

“Bruce, don’t be a dick.” Bruce flicked his nose. “Ow…!” He rubbed at it, pouting more than needed. It obviously hadn’t hurt him that much, but he was making a show of everything considering. “Watch your mouth.” He didn’t mind if Dick cursed, so long as it was within proper usage of the word. Like ‘go to hell’ or ‘damn it all’ or ‘they fucked’- things like that. Calling him a dick over it being used as his own name or the part of the body wasn’t going to fly with Bruce.

“I can’t watch my own mouth without a mirror- but I can watch yours.” He purred, clearly vying for his attention, hoping enough of it would grant him access to whatever Bruce was doing. “Dick. It’s late, go to bed.” He pouted, sticking his bottom lip out. “...Can I at least have a good night kiss?” He was asking over just doing it. He’d noticed the subtle drop in his hips as he asked, the way it allowed him to look up at Bruce with those wide, begging blues, how he played with the hair by the nape of his neck, the way he put his bottom lip in his mouth ever so slightly to wet it in an attempt to entice him... How often had he let this boy around Ivy? Clearly there had to be some permanent residual effects from inhaling something- that or he was unable to turn off his hyper-vigilance; neither good in this instance, if he was being honest.

Regardless, he snapped himself out of his own head while Dick still eagerly waited for a reply. “One- then you’re going to bed.” He caved- slightly. Dick seemed happy enough with it though, giving a wide grin and squirming in his lap in anticipation. Choose your battles and all that… Bruce closed the gap, pressing his lips to Dick’s, earning an excited kind of squeal from him, Dick intentionally messing up his hair. “Night, B!” He called as he’d already wiggled off of his lap and made his way to the door. ...Something didn’t sit well with Bruce. If all it took was some attention to make sure he didn’t go, then Dick would be the most complacent kid in the entire universe.

He called for Alfred. “Make sure he doesn’t leave his room- he’s up to something.” Alfred instantly looked exhausted and like he’d gained a few years. “Aren’t you both always, sir?” He asked, clearly taking a jab at Bruce per usual. Bruce ignored it, going back to finishing official work before he went out.

 

* * *

 

 He’d locked the batcave up. Dick already knew he’d done that, so from before the very first no, he’d taken one of of his Robin costumes as a precaution and hid it upstairs. He knew if Alfred thought he was pouting, he’d check on him a few times, but assume he went to sleep after a particular hour. So, he’d made a good show at dinner about being upset and easily giving in, gave a sorrowful, “Good night, Alfred…” to him before going to his room. Like hell he wasn’t gonna help. Bruce wouldn’t even let him go on patrol! Nothing! Zilch! It was so stinking frustrating!

So, he was going and that was that. Sure B would yell at him later, but whatever. It was his own fault for not just taking him with him. He’d even asked _nicely_ too! Both kinds- the actual nice _and_ the sexy nice.

He’d already taken the liberty of finding out _just_ enough without Bruce realizing. Just enough to know where he was going. If he was wrong, oh well he got some air as Robin. He’d be mad as all hell, but it was Bruce- he’d probably noticed _something_ and lied to him in some way about where he was going. But at the same time, Dick was brilliant and clever and knew damn well he was an easy distraction for Bruce. If he bent over the right way or batted his eyelashes with the right lighting or sat on his knees just so… Bruce was a puddle- and Dick didn’t mind hard water.

So he’d obviously been sitting on his lap more than usual with a faux attempt to convince Bruce to let him go with him. He knew him well enough to know that Bruce wasn’t going to let him if he’d already decided on it, so the next step was to simply do it anyway.

He didn’t check on Alfred, knowing it could be a giveaway if he was seen. It was best to do the typical pillows under the covers trick- they had so fricking many it worked more than he’d like to admit, especially if it was a pillow from this room and a pillow from that room. He wiggled out of one pair of hip hugging shorts and put on another, fastening buckles and adjusting his cape before an excited smile slid onto his face as he placed his domino mask on.

He’d convinced himself Bruce wouldn’t be _that_ mad- Bats missed his baby bird being around. It was obvious from how he let him into the batcave to bug him while he worked instead of shooing him away. Bruce was stubborn, even more so when he was The Batman, but Dick was never one to be fazed by his usual brooding, especially since he could read between the lines.

For now, he front flipped out of his window and landed on his toes, both arms out and a wide grin on his face. “See ya soon, B~!” He purred, blowing the camera a kiss, knowing for some reason or another Bruce would go look back at the footage- most likely to stop him from sneaking out or to take better precautionary measures. Honestly it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done on camera for Bruce. Bruce probably saved those. No, actually probably not.

 

* * *

 

Upon arriving at the location, Robin found himself congratulating his own efforts. Apparently, this was where something was going down- that or Bruce had messed up, but he’d like to think he had just distracted him well enough to get the information over something like Bruce being that dense or having accidentally sent him all alone to where something was _actually_ happening. All options were valid and possible, but he’d again prefer to let the combination of his ego and thighs win out in this instance.

He took to the quiet viewing that was his current location, but it didn’t give a good vantage point at who was clearly a key player here. Everyone was turned to him, listening to him speak… What accent was that again? Jersey? Ugh, the guy sounded like he was speaking right out of his nose over speaking from his mouth. Dick easily withheld laughter as he tried to listen to the conversation better. Money talk… Where was The Bat? Drugs, some illegal thing involving kids… Taking over the business… Bruce was supposed to be here right? Was he at a different vantage point? It was hard to make out completely- he needed to get close-

The rail was rusted, giving out under his weight. Robin fell flat on his ass, several guns directly in his face while he silently nursed his tailbone. How could he be stupid enough to not notice?! Not quick enough to pull away and hide?! What the heck! He’d been so focused on questioning where Batman was that he- “Hey, hey now… What do we have here?” the guns parted, giving full view of the man with greasy hair and a thin, equally greasy mustache. Robin thought he was clearly wearing too much cologne, even before he grabbed him by his chin. He finally managed to get a look at the guy’s face… and it scared the shit out of him that this was how it happened.

“Well what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” He asked, breath smelling like cigars. One, two… Seven guys and the greasy man. If he had the element of surprise, sure he could take them. Like this? Screwed. “Hold up- this is the Bat’s brat…!” Came another’s voice, clearly a bit panicked. “...Batman, huh? Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him myself yet. But see my thing is… If you were his partner… why would he leave you here all by yourself?”

“It could be a distraction!” Another voice, aimed at the ceiling. “Nah man- the Bat busted up some other thing I was working and no distraction was this long.” Said another. Shit, shit, shit…!! Bruce!! “...Well, let’s see if it’s a distraction… or if the kiddo walked into the street without his daddy knowing. Do you know who I am, kid?” He asked, again heaving the sickening smell of smoke that clung to his breath into his face. “...No…” Robin finally replied, words emboldened but small.

“Well… Let me show you. My name is Matches Marlone.” He pulled out a pack of matches. “I can light these with my teeth… and let’s see if the Bat tries to come for you if I set you on fire.” Robin’s eyes instantly went wide as he panicked and tried to get away, but he’d already been stupid enough to let Matches close enough to touch him. “Now, now, birdy… Relax. I like chicken as much as the next guy, but I’m just fucking with you.” He said with a laugh, coaxing laughter from the others as well. “You have no idea what we do here, do you? Else you’d be a lot more scared and cowering behind some big bad weirdo in a bat-suit. Or maybe you do… but just don’t get it. Here… Let ol’ Matches teach you what it is we do.” His tone made his stomach churn...

He dragged Robin up by his arm, throwing him so harshly on the table that he earned a yelp. “You see, what we do…” He grabbed a case and opened it, revealing tons of drugs. The men around him didn’t seem to like him having his hands on his merchandise… “We sell these to bad men… like my friends here, see. Now, what they do is operate a gaggle of stupid little whores- like you. This is an assumption see, based on the tiny little shorts you got on.” He reached for them- Robin kicking at him and trying to move out of his grasp, only to be grabbed by his shoulders by another. “Did I say you could fucking touch him!?” Malone snarled, Robin quivering, but… recognizing how, for an instant, his tone sounded like Bruce’s- surely it had to be the desperation for wanting him there. His tone didn’t seem able to get that deep.

Regardless, he felt no one’s finger’s touch him anymore. “Anyway, we sell these fun drugs to men like this to give to kids like you- go on. Ask me what they do.” He paused, Matches slamming a hand down on the table. “W-What do they do?!” Robin asked in reply. He was trying to think of a way out of this- but with so many eyes on him he… He…

Don’t cry. _Don’t. Cry._ Bruce would be so pissed if not only you got into this situation but started _crying_ …! “...They make you feel _gooood_ , see…” He took out a vial, showing Robin up close. “Make you behave real nice like… Wanna see?” He laughed loudly as Robin scrambled away, the sound sinister and he felt guilty for even once considering to compare any aspect of this man to Bruce. He was gross and sleazy and…!

“...Boys, feel free to check the case… I’ll be more than happy to check the drugs.” He was going to use them on him! He…!! They started counting stacks, but not thoroughly. Just enough to make sure it was all there. Robin somehow ended up on Matches’ lap in spite of all of his struggling. “When you give that to your boss, be sure to tell ‘em Matches sent cha.” They looked him over and the squirming boy in his grasp… “...Not to be ‘that guy’ but uh… You care if we hang around?” He wanted to watch.

Matches snorted as he attached the vial to a needle. “You got five minutes… Then I’m gonna tell your boss you tried to scam me out of drugs to keep some for yourself.” He threatened, clearly wanting to keep Robin all to himself. “...Four minutes is better than nothin’.” He said with a shrug, sitting himself down and getting comfortable. “He’s a cute one, give the Bat that. I mean who the hell in their right mind gets a kid like this and convinces him to run around in tiny little shorts like this?” Matches snorted, the vial empty. “Who the hell knows- give him props as well.” He roughly grabbed Robin up by his chin.

“But you’re a stupid shit, ain’t cha? Coming here all by yourself like that. You think you’re big and bad without the Bat, boy? You ain’t shit… I could _sell you_ , you know that? Test you out and if I don’t like you, either sell you for sex or parts. You know how much a heart goes for on the black market? Three minutes.” Matches snapped. A few of the others left… four or so lingering.

He didn’t like this- he was scared…! He should have stayed home- he should have listened to Bruce he…! Bruce was gonna never find out what happened to him! He was gonna end up in Guatemala or something as some rich guy’s pet or…! Or…! He’d started tuning out what Matches was saying, his own thoughts cracked and swirling around until they mixed together.

“One minute.” Matches snapped, the men realizing they weren’t going to get any kind of show, unfortunately. “Matches you’re a greedy son of a bitch.” Said one with a snort. “Let us know what you think. He should be damn well behaved. Sure the Bat would pay you a ton to get him back- hell, maybe even may just leave him.” Matches was quiet as he watched Robin’s eyes look like they were swirling in their own iris’. “...You got five seconds.”

They cleared out. “So… You gonna try to go solo again? Or is this the last of it, baby? Huh?” Matches asked, laughing loudly as he pulled out his own drug. Oh please god no…! Robin started hiccuping, horrified. “Well?” Matches snapped, Robin feeling his eyes well up. “How could I?!” He snapped back, Matches yanking his head back and shoving the contents down his throat. “...Exactly. You’d be sold or dead.” That tone… He… “Bruce…?” He asked, voice quivering. “Next time I tell you to stay home, you stay. Not only was this a blatant disregard for-”  
“Bruce!” Bruce was Matches! Holy fucking golly _Bruce was Matches!!!_ He could cry he was so relieved…!! He covered his face in kisses, apologizing over and over. “It won’t happen again, I’ll be good- I’ll be so good Bruce I’m so sorry…!” Bruce realized he couldn’t lecture him as he was- probably scared the shit out of him…Still, he shushed him all the same in case they were lingering outside. “...You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right?” He asked quietly, gently prying Robin away as he wiped at his eyes. “Alfred had already told me you snuck out. If you hadn’t come here, I was going to finish anyway and would have went to get you.” Robin eagerly nodded in agreement, still trying to kiss all over Matches’ face.

“...Robin.” He scolded in his perfectly wonderfully amazingly deep Batman voice. He grabbed him by both sides of his face and forced him to look Bruce in the eyes. He should be fine in two minutes if not sooner considering what else he gave him… Bruce planned for everything. “...Please never use this cologne again, I’ll cry.” Robin added, Matches watches his eyes still practically swirl. “Fair enough.” He said with a laugh. “...You okay?” He asked after a lengthy pause, counting seconds internally. Robin nodded. “Yes. Bruce I-” He was cut off with a look.

“...Matches,” Robin corrected. “I’m sorry… I’m really sorry. I just… I missed being with you and thought… well I mean you’re always…” Not that he couldn’t handle himself- more like he trusted Bruce to be here- which he was. If anything ever in his life was a constant, it was Bruce being present when he thought he was going to be. “We’ll talk about that later, alright?” Matches reassured, clearly realizing he didn’t fully have his own head back yet.

“But um… Did you really just pay them for all that? They’ll just make more- you don’t usually…” He trailed off. Was it because of him? Was it his fault? “The case is set to start a fire and explode by the time they get back. At the very least it’ll tell me where they are if it doesn’t damage the factory completely. The cops have also been tipped off by a tracker in the case.” Of course… Bruce accounting for everything. If they didn’t get out, he made sure they would so they’d be held accountable.

“...I’m sorry, Matches.” He apologized again, being shushed with a kiss. “...You taste gross.” Bruce rose a brow and stuck two fingers in his mouth. “Say again?” He taunted, resuming Matches’ accent. Oh gross… But he was so relieved it was kind of funny. He spoke around his fingers, words muffled as he repeated himself. Matches watched his tongue work, trying to touch the roof of his mouth between his fingers, lips pressing to his knuckles. “Shitty brat- ain’t your dad ever spank you if you misbehaved?” He asked, watching Robin squirm. Ooohh, he was expecting it, wasn’t he? Some kind of playful punishment… Cute.

He removed his fingers, watching the saliva trail like parts of Dick always had after him. “Stick your tongue out.” He demanded, Robin following orders flawlessly. He put the muscle between his index and thumb fingers, squeezing slightly, his moan perfectly timed in response. He could easily hide how he was watching his hips squirm behind the shades he wore, even in the poorly lit warehouse.

“Be still.” He demanded, Robin moaning in reply, but kept still all the same. He watched the base of his tongue bob up and try again to connect with the roof of his mouth to appropriately make the sound he wanted. Matches used his thumb to brush over his evenly spaced teeth, practically so perfect they could have been fake. Oh the pleasures money could buy...

Of course his mouth was a pleasurable little thing to put parts of himself into, so of course he’d take care of it. Not a single cavity, all perfectly spaced and white like a military graveyard, fleshy and pink gums… He pulled his fingers off of his tongue, Robin leaving it out until he was told otherwise what to do with it. Matches wiped the saliva in his hair, watching his legs quiver.

“Strip- keep your shorts on.” Robin practically stumbled over himself as he followed orders, fingers trembling in terrible excitement for Bruce- _Matches_ to touch him. The rule still applied that masks didn’t come off unless you were in the cave, so that stayed. It was cold, so it was only a matter of minutes for his nipples to get hard if they hadn’t been already. When he finished, he resumed resting on his knees on the table in front of Matches. He stood up, loosening his tie before tipping Robin’s head back. “Mouth- open.” He demanded bluntly, Robin replying with the required action.

Matches kept the distance, a trail of saliva leaving his mouth and forming a puddle in Robin’s. He didn’t swallow his spit until he was told to, Matches clearly noting the pressure being applied to his cock from the shorts he was in. Kid got hard from having someone else’s spit in his mouth- christ he was ruining him… Or so others would say if they knew. They didn’t, and so Dick was a perfectly well groomed young man- in both aspects of the word, really.

“Swallow.” He watched his throat bob due to his head still being tipped back, Robin gasping for air like he’d just ran for several miles without pause he was so wound up. Matches pulled a chair up to the table, sitting with his legs spread while looking at Robin like he was dug up garbage. “On the floor.” He fluidly slid from the floor and down between his legs, pressing his cheek to his thigh.

Bruce could probably crush his skull between his legs and kill him if he wanted. It sent a chill up his spine because as Matches, he might just taunt him with that concept. The amount of trust he had for him was immeasurable. If Bruce said jump, Dick was brilliant enough to know where and exactly how high without being told. Bruce was _always_ his safety net, even if it appeared otherwise.

Matches took his time undoing his belt, watching Robin eagerly awaiting him to give him his next order. This was probably the only time Dick had ever actually stopped his insistent yammering- was when he was waiting with baited breath for Bruce to tell him how to touch and be touched. Even then, he was still a noisy little thing. Matches completely removed his belt, looking at Robin and asked with a casual, “Should I choke you with this?” Before tossing it on the table. He pretended not to notice the quiet whimper that left him. He’d let him if he really wanted to- they both knew that.

Robin already had his bottom lip between his teeth before Matches even had his dick out of his pants- already eagerly nibbling at that taste of flesh he craved. “Now,” Matches started with a heavy sigh. “What should I do with you?” He asked, grabbing at Robin’s hair and making his neck twist back and forth with how he moved his hand. He left a long enough pause without any kind of noise to let Robin know he wanted him to actually reply with some ideas.

“You can use my mouth.” He offered, almost a little too eagerly. Matches let out a kind of bored noise. “I could sit on your lap and…” He trailed off, nervous to actually say it. Again, a noncommittal bored noise. “Bend me over the table?” He offered, a little more bold at every idea Matches shot down. “I’m flexible,” He offered as if this was news to him. “I can do something weird if you want.” Matches snorted, but shook his head. “Well what do you want me to do?” He asked, a touch of exasperation in his voice. Matches shrugged.

“...Stop being a dick.” Matches looked like he was going to hit him, unlike Bruce, but didn’t do anything. “...You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, wait...” Robin glowered at him. They were playing, so he knew Bruce didn’t mean it, but Matches sure as hell had. “Jerk.” He snapped, Matches yanking him up and flipping him so his cheek harshly hit the table. He yelped, quivering as he felt him press up against him. “...You know, the table may not be so bad.” He jacked him up again, adjusting Robin so his head was upside down over the table. “Matches I’m gonna get dizzy if we do it this way.” He objected.

“Not my problem.” Prick… This was fun though- not like he’d ever admit that out loud. He felt Matches yank down his shorts, spread his cheeks and spit on him. ...Okay, little less fun if he kept being an ass. Bruce was normally a little gentler- almost apologetically so. He was kind of expecting him to break persona or something, but… Not likely. So… if he requested to have sex with Matches… He felt rough fingers press against him, snapping him from his thoughts.

How dirty was that? _Wanting_ Bruce to be a little rougher? Weirdo… Matches squeezed the elastic skin of one of his cheeks in his hand, watching it vaguely turn red before recovering its usual color. The silence was different though; with Bruce, it was comfortable, while with Matches, it was tense and kept Robin on his toes like when they were on missions. He felt Matches shift, then yelped when he felt him bite his butt. He laughed- that disgusting nasal chuckle laughter. Nope. No. Never would he request to do it with Matches after this. Matches was an ass.

The thought was reiterated when he felt him give a smack to the same cheek while he rubbed himself between his butt, again resulting in a noise of discomfort from him. A thought occurred to him- he was going to fricking smell like that nasty, cheap cologne he had on. Ew. He pressed his chest to the table, turning to look at him better. “...You’re gonna keep your clothes on?” He asked, voice an octave higher than he’d have prefered.

He absolutely _adored_ looking at Bruce without clothes. Touching like this was one of the rare instances he got to stare to his heart’s content. So this was kind of… Disappointing. Matches could be mean all he liked, he’d get over it, but to not get to look at him… He wanted that to be a constant, regardless of whatever persona Bruce had on.

“Damn skippy.” Robin instantly pouted, pulling away before Matches had a chance to grab at him. “Ohoho?” He laughed, blocking the door as if he was going to try to run out. Not exactly easy considering his shorts were around his ankles. If he won this little game though… he’d get to see Bruce naked. Dick did a lot of things to see Bruce naked.

He didn’t really consider it fighting so much as he did sparring. Naked. Kind of. He launched himself at Matches, but ducked down between his legs and slid though, throwing his jacket over his head. Matches yanked it off, twirling around, Robin having abandoned his shorts all together to make movement easier. “Come ‘ere you little slut.” He snapped, Robin doing his best to not freeze up or melt at his words.

“No.” He replied defiantly. Matches lunged for him, Robin dancing his way up onto the table. “Hup!” He slid down his back and yanked his pants down. Matches kicked out of them, Robin hesitating to gawk at him. It was long enough for Matches to snatch him up, already removing his tie. “Since you won’t sit fucking still…” He hissed, Robin using his toes to rip at the buttons of his shirt.

Matches smacked at his legs, but ultimately had his arms tied up. Dick could tell this was definitely still a game, otherwise his arms would have been tied behind his back and to his ankles. Not that he’d mind that- that’d honestly be something he’d have to request some other time… “Christ- _finally_. Now hold still you fucking shit.”

Robin hummed in reply, fussing mostly with his hips as he went back to biting his bottom lip. Socks and an opened shirt was all he had left- he did pretty good. He could probably even get him out of the shirt too if he tried...

Matches tossed his legs over his shoulders, bending him practically in half to shove his tongue into his mouth, the bitter taste of cigars still lingering and the harsh cologne assailing his nose. Dick had this habit of sucking on his tongue in a way that was much too similar to when he’d get on his knees for Bruce- it was sensual and implicational… and he loved it. “Nasty little slut.” He spat, Robin whimpering and the tip of his own tongue dancing along the inside of his teeth.

He used one hand to hold his knees by his ears, completely exposed this way. “You look good like this.” Matches noted out loud. He debated tying him up like this and letting him sit there for a while while he had a smoke… but decided against it. He could tease him some other time. Again, he spit on him, Robin’s nose scrunching up. Gross, Bruce.. Come on. He wasn’t even going to be tasteful about it? Well… Nevermind, stupid question.

He watched him lick his hole in a way that made his stomach ring itself out like when he’d laughed. Something about it was… sleazy. The long licks, the way he let the tip of his tongue flick against his hole… Something about it just grossed him out. He squirmed, the grip on the underside of his knees tightening.

He pulled away, shoving fingers in Robin’s mouth. “You bite me, I’m biting you back- and you ain’t gonna like it.” He warned. In turn, Robin behaved. He sucked on his fingers while he let himself zone out to the view of his chest. Yeah his face looked different, but… his body was still exactly the same. The same toned and defined muscles, the same scars, birth and beauty marks…

It was Bruce. Yes, he could pretend to be this gross character, but at the end of the day he couldn’t change everything. There were subtle inflections Dick noticed, and if there was even a single scar in the same place, he’d notice it. He loved him dearly… so of course when he was up an hour before Bruce he’d just stare at him. He’d watch the way he breathed, watch the way his chest hair’s curled, watch the way the skin on his body was discolored from scars or from blood flow like the tip of his penis...

He made a needy little noise, wiggling his fingers at him. Matches snorted. “Like fuck, kiddo. Keep sucking.” He demanded, shoving his fingers up to the knuckle into his throat. Robin choked for a second, recovering before he vomited all over his fingers. The flesh on them had gotten soft and wrinkled, the concept making him kind of want to ask to put Matches’ cock in his mouth next. Bruce was cut, he wasn’t. He always thought it was interesting to stare at the colors there and notice how Bruce reacted differently than he did because of something like that.

“Matches?” He asked around his fingers, the vowels muffled from the appendages. “The fuck you want _now_?” He snapped. He removed the fingers, flicking the saliva from them onto the floor with a few flicks of his wrist. “I want…” He started. “I-I want- W-W-Whahhh.” Matches mocked, making Robin pout again. “I want to blow you.” He spat back, playing right into his hand.

A pause. “...Do you now?” He asked, rubbing at his chin as if debating it. Robin nodded so quickly he made himself dizzy. Matches hummed, walking around to the other side of the table. He yanked him down, head tipped over the side. He was eye level with his balls like this, greedily reaching out with his tongue for him. “What’s’a magic word, prissy boy?” He taunted, moving just out of reach of his tongue.

“You can do whatever you want.” He practically begged, knowing at the end of the day, if Bruce did for some reason hurt him, he’d take care of him. He’d spoil him in baths and kisses and apologetic gifts and full body rub downs with light scented lotion… He was wonderful like that. Matches gave him a wide, sickening grin. He shoved himself down Robin’s throat, making him flinch violently. “You puke on my dick you’re _dead_ , kiddo.” He threatened.

Robin relaxed, opening his throat more and breathing through his nose. Being upside down like this was definitely gonna make him dizzy… But it was always fun to stare at Bruce, regardless of angle. He pressed his fingers against his thighs, feeling the hair on his skin and muscle underneath.

Matches pulled out of his mouth, cock already coated in saliva from deep in his throat. He pushed back in, slowly for now until he’d get less friction enough to do as he wanted. He noticed the way he was breathing- deep inhales, short exhales. He had that look on his face too… He was doing _that thing_ again where he stared too much, or pointed out things about Bruce he didn’t even notice, or could describe how he smelled in a weirdly accurate manner. So he wasn’t exactly focused on his breathing but more like getting as much of Bruce’s smell into his system as he could.

He knew pointing it out, Matches or otherwise, would genuinely hurt his feelings later and he’d probably stop doing it. There was nothing wrong with letting him do it so… He chose a particular way to point it out that wouldn’t bother Dick. “Get a nice good whiff kid- The bat obviously ain’t ever let you do this. Wonder if he’d be more willing to if he knew you were so eager for it.” Robin hummed around his member, the vibrations more distinct around the tip since that was deeper in his throat.

Matches used his thumb to wipe some saliva from his chin that was dripping to his cheekbone, licking it when he pulled it away. He moved a bit quicker, watching him eagerly squirm. He reached down and pinched one of his nipples, watching the color shift from a pale shade from the pressure to cherry red from the blood rushing back. He flicked the other, Robin moaning around him while Matches got a better tempo going in his throat.

He listened to the small bird make sounds that resembled hiccups every time he got it deep in his throat. The noise occasionally was choked out by a gasp for air or a moan, depending on Matches movement, causing him to choke or melt. He loved the look of his cock so deep down his throat that it made it swell with the outline of it. It’d taken a lot of practice to get Dick to be able to do this, so he always made sure to reward his efforts.

When he felt there was a sufficient amount of saliva around his cock, he pulled out, Robin’s lips slightly swollen with blood, making them appear more plump than usual. He watched him try to catch the thick strand of saliva that clung to Matches’ cock, but failed as it drip down to his eye. Matches leaned down and licked it away before he licked Robin’s lips before catching his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it so hard he surely broke a few blood vessels that would leave it blooming red.

He tugged him up by his hair, an almost dreamy sigh leaving him as the world spun, blood trying to reallocate itself properly in his body. Matches didn’t wait though, pressing him forward until his cheek pressed to the table, ass in the air. Bruce was always wildly interested in his shape- Dick was a tiny little thing through and through, but his skin was terribly soft and plump, his thighs and lips especially. It was what made it so hard to deny him kisses, but made him want to shoo him away with a pat to his thighs or rear.

He grabbed at both cheeks, one in either hand and the supple flesh barely filling them. He gave a kind of interested groan, then let his cock rest between his cheeks and partially on his lower back. “Raise your hips.” He demanded, the gravel in his voice showing through in the accent. It made Dick weak, so he had paused long enough to earn himself a pinch to his butt. He yelped, quickly lifting his hips for Matches.

“Stop being a disobedient little shit.” He warned, aligning himself with his entrance. As Bruce, he felt bad he didn’t have anything other than saliva right now. He would have just used the drug or the antidote for it if he had more, but he didn’t and he didn’t know if it was completely safe for him like that. As Matches he didn’t give half a shit and just spit on his hole again before testing the warm waters and listening to the bird cry out.

“Sting?” He asked, Robin finding the question odd. Was he breaking down Matches’ character? ...No, this was Bruce… “...A little…” He admitted in honesty, his hazy head and curiosity getting the better of him. He received a hefty smack to his ass, yelping in reply. “Well there you go- something else to focus on.” _He knew it._ Even as someone else Dick could read him like an open book.

It wasn’t so much a distraction though as it was like adding a book to a pile. Sure it made it a bit more cumbersome, but overall he was still carrying a few things at a time when he could have only had to deal with one if he’d kept his mouth shut. But it was Dick- that was impractical. Still, carrying more than one thing at a time allowed him to show off to Bruce- and he _loved_ showing off to Bruce.

So, instead of complaining, he bit his bottom lip and let Matches do what he wanted- he’d already begged for it and promised him he’d let him after all. Even if he did decide to go back on that, Bruce would probably be able to read him and say something before Dick’s stubborn little ass would.

The heat from being entered into made his spine feel like it was vibrating and like he was splitting… He noticed Matches was being slow instead of out right shoving himself inside like anyone else would have done. Subtle little things like this… made him adore Bruce. “Bet when I pull out of your tight little hole it’ll be gaping like your mouth for more.” Matches taunted, Dick feeling a tingling sensation make it’s way into his penis, toes, and fingertips.

Matches roughly grabbed at his butt, pushing in a little more and listening to his breath hitch. Tiny little thing… Christ how was he still so small? The thought only ever hit him in instances like this or if he was seriously hurt and it drove him up a wall. He bent down and bit at his spine, Robin squirming to get away. “Be still.” Matches snapped, Dick shivering.

He kept grabbing at his ass and eventually reached around to his front once he was practically in all of the way, giving him enough stimulation to keep him hard. “Come on little song bird- make music for me.” He taunted, Robin sighing and moaning for him, leaning his back against Matches’ chest more so than into his hand.

Even like this, his favorite part was being smothered by how big Bruce was compared to his own small size. One of his favorite memories was Bruce rolling over onto him in the morning to mess with him, resulting in hysterical giggles on his end while he complained he couldn’t breathe. He’d been showered in kisses and promised a sip of coffee with whip cream since he’d been asking to taste it for all of that week. Even as Matches… Dick adored Bruce being able to cover all of him so easily like this.

He gave a few more tentative squeezes to his cock, Dick sighing and doing his best to stay still to not annoy or frustrate Matches. He pulled out of him just a bit, their bodies sticking together due to lack of enough lubrication. Robin hiccuped and quivered as Matches tried to pull out, his insides clinging to him much like his fingers would be doing if they weren’t tied up and were within range. For now, the only thing he could do was ignore the vague pulsing in his knees from his position and claw at the table- with his fingertips of course. Bruce had gotten mad when he’d used his nails on one of the headboards once.

Matches pushed back into him, Robin letting out this almost uncomfortable hum. He did this a few more times until the movement was more fluid, occasionally letting some spit from his mouth dribble down onto his cock to make it easier. “...Bein’ a good boy…” He mumbled, grabbing at his butt again while taking a longer drag out of him and back inside.

That earned a moan over a whimper or a gasp- good. He was feeling better. He did this again… and again… and again… His breath matching Matches’ rhythm; shaky breaths in as he pulled out, puffs out as he pushed in. He gave a smack to his rear, earning a yelp and a hiccup as he tried to recover his breathing and choked instead.

He harshly grabbed at the other cheek, giving it a squeeze that involved his blunt nails. Robin moaned as he did so and brushed against the spot inside of him that he liked. “Bet the big bad bat never fucked you like this.” Of course not- he usually didn’t have sex with Batman, but rather Bruce.

Yeah, he’d gotten to blow him once in the batmobile because he’d been a disgustingly desperate little thing that Bruce couldn’t say no to… but he couldn’t recall a time when he’d had sex with Batman. He should try to sometime- it’d probably be fun. His voice like unmelted gravel stones in his ear, the smell of kevlar, the imprint on his hips from the gloves, the heat from the suits… He moaned, shaking his head. “He doesn’t… Batman doesn’t touch me. I have to ask to touch Batman.” He admitted to Matches.

“Hhhhooo?” He asked, as if this was news to him- as if they weren’t the same person. “So the Bat does do some nasty things with you?” Robin shook his head, feeling Matches pick up his pace a bit. “No- he doesn’t ever wanna… Batman’s too business-y…” Robin explained, not able to use a better word. “Well I guess old Matches better show you a good time, huh?” Robin nodded eagerly, more than needed most likely. He stopped caring as Matches picked up the pace, moaning in short bursts that matched his thrusts.

Matches felt his hole tighten around him, sucking desperately like his mouth had earlier. God he loved his mouth… Always working on something, be it candy, his fingers, talking, his dick, moaning… He loved his mouth. He had zoned for a second in the feeling and in his own thoughts, not registering what Robin had said. “What’zat?” He asked, kneading harshly at one of his cheeks. There was a squeak in one of his moans, Robin fighting to recover any semblance of words. “H-Harder… Please… Matches!” He begged desperately, entire body quivering underneath him.

Matches couldn’t help but laugh, a stutter in his pace. He was funny. He gave a harsh smack to his ass, earning a yelp and a wonderful red color. “What would you do if the bat swooped in right now, huh? Hearing you begged to be fucked harder?”

Dick entertained the thought of Matches and Bruce being two different people. Would he join in? Would he be repulsed with him? Would he harshly claim him to remind him not to let people like Matches touch him- that he belonged to him and only him? He let out this desperate sounding moan at the thought, penis quivering between his legs while he started drooling all over the table.

“Well?” Matches asked harshly, wanting to hear what had him moan and drooling more than before. “He’d be so maaaaadd…” His voice was airy and higher than usual, clearly enjoying this. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d do- considering, he was rather ashamed. He could figure out what they were to do on a mission without a single solitary word… Yet this? He had no idea. He just knew Bruce would probably be pissed for one reason or another.

Matches figured if he kept fucking him like this, he wouldn’t tell him- and he wanted to hear his dirty little thoughts. So… he kept going- really harsh and rubbing his poor little penis against the edge of the table, causing him to cry out. He abruptly stopped, grabbing him and hissing in his ear, “What would the Bat do, little bird? Huh?” Robin stammered incoherently before Matches yanked at his dick, earning a blathered, “I don’t know, I don’t know!” Matches let go, Robin pressing his cheek to the table and panting.

“Well then make it the fuck up.” He demanded, smacking his other cheek and earning a wonderful sounding yelp. “Ah… Um… H… He’d um… Get mad.” He started again, pathetically and with repetition. “He’d um… Probably arrest you.” He said more seriously. Knowing Bruce, at the very least he’d do that. “Oh yeah?” Matches asked, clearly not amused as he gave a slow, languid roll of his hips.

“Yeah- he’d beat you up- break some bones… Then arrest you. He’d take me home, clean me up…” He knew this isn’t what Matches wanted to hear, but it’s what he’d do. He scoffed. “Yeah, yeah- he’d kiss you and tuck you in with a warm glass of milk- what would you _want_ him to do?” He tried again, hoping to coax more disgusting words out of his strung out ward. He noticed the pause and gave a harsh roll of his hips, earning a drawn out moan.

“If the world was as fucked up as a weirdo runnin’ around in tights with a tiny little slut at his side, what would you do?” He rudely prompted again, swinging his hips into him and earning a beautiful image of his legs quivering. “I… Hmm… I’d want him to… Aaahhh… Touch me too.” He admitted. Just because it was Bruce. Bruce, Bruce, Bruce… Two variations of the same person fucking him silly… Bruce in his mouth or also pressing into his insides- he already felt like he’d split in two at his normal size, yet alone if he…

He felt Matches thrust into him like his life depended on it, earning curled toes and broken moans and gasps before he felt his body tense and he came. Matches didn’t stop. “Dirty little whore. You’d like that, huh? Getting fucked by two different men?” He felt guilt pool in the bottom of his stomach, even if it was just playing. “...N-No… Just you- only you… B…!” He admitted through a haze of orgasm and an assault on his prostate.

Oh god damn it… Dick was probably the only person in the world capable of breaking his character. He wanted to slow up- to coddle him. To spoil him in warmth like the seed in his stomach and milk at late nights and warm blankets and body heat.

He kept going at his current pace, wanting to hurry up and cum inside him so he could take him home and treat him properly. He was such a good boy… In spite of the misbehaving that got him into this situation in the first place. He was a little harsh with him, skin slapping skin enough to sound like the time he’d smacked him across the face, but the desperate noises he let out reminded him it was different.

Dick could feel his character breaking- it was actually the lack of talking that did it. Matches never seemed to shut up or kept insisting Dick talk, so the silence said he was slipping back into his actual self rather than keeping up his persona. He keened for him, wanting desperately to be untied so he could feel him tug at his arms, making his joints scream. He wanted… “Please…?” He begged desperately though pants. “Please untie me? I… Mmmm…! Wanna touch…!” He begged, by now completely hard again. Even as Matches, Bruce was always good at getting him to cum multiple times.

“Ain’t nothing to touch, sweet heart.” He reminded loudly with a snort. “You...” Robin countered meekly, a moan being drawn from him as he felt his stomach coil. He didn’t stop, but hadn’t replied. He was considering it- he knew him well enough to at least, even though the haze of sex, know that.

...Matches untied him, Robin instantly reaching behind him and grabbing at the air, signaling he wanted Matches to grab his arms. He grabbed at his elbows tugging his arms, careful not to displace them from their sockets. If he did, he could set them back but that wasn’t the point. He needed to hurry up and finish so he could take him home… He was so fucking done being Matches already.

He watched his body strain, face pressed to the table in his own puddle of drool, moaning so loudly there was no way anyone outside hadn’t heard him. Thank fucking god he’d made sure there were no active cameras- he’d also have to make sure none of them were lingering nearby. If _anyone_ heard his precious boy like this, he’d be tempted to snap necks. _Dick_ was _his_. _Robin_ was _his_.

“Ah- mm… Gonna… Matches I’m gonna… Again I…!” He snatched up his shorts and shoved them into his mouth, not wanting anyone to hear him cum again. He felt his body convulse again, wind tight until he melted, allowing Matches to use him until he came. It didn’t take much longer after, Matches cuming inside of him. He pulled away, looking at his handiwork dribble out from between his legs.

“...Now run along and let ol’ big bad bat see what Matches did to ya- consider it a warning.” He grabbed his own clothes, starting to dress himself. “The fuck...?” He asked under his breath. He’d totally ruined his outfit. Robin hadn’t moved from the table, panting deeply with his shorts in his mouth and ass still in the air.

Matches dressed himself the best he could considering, turning his attention to Robin. “...Hey.” Nothing. “Hey.” He smacked his butt a few times to get his attention, Robin fluttering his big blue eyes open at him. “Huh…?” He asked pathetically, clearly exhausted from this. He sighed. Playtime was over apparently… He picked up his clothes, then took his own jacket, using it to cover him. He carried him out, hat tipped down, the boy in his arms completely obscured by his coat minus from his ankles down and his mess of dark hair.

He trusted Bruce, even as Matches, to keep him safe- trusted him enough to pass out on the table like that. He couldn’t help but snort, making his way to the car he’d taken. He set Robin in the back, having a cigar in the cool night air before getting in and taking him home. He slept the entire time, Alfred greeting him at the door.

“Welcome home, Master Bruce.” He grunted, Robin in his arms and still buried under the coat. “Everything went as planned, I hope?” He snorted. “This look like everything went according to plan?” He asked, nodding to Robin in his arms, the accent completely void in his voice. “Shall I run a bath, sir?” He asked, too tired to quip at him.

“Yes- he needs it.” He decided. God knows what else was on that table he’d fucked him on. Alfred went off to do as requested, Bruce leaving Dick on the bed for a moment as he removed any traces of Matches from himself. He picked him back up, in nothing but sweatpants as he carried him to the bathroom.

He sat him upright on the toilet, patting his cheek. “Dick- Dick wake up. You need a bath.” He told him gently, peeling the domino mask from his face while he let out a tired noise of objection. “You can sleep after- I promise.” He reassured. He slumped forward against Bruce’s shoulder, mumbling something completely incoherent. He picked him up, stripping his own pants and getting into the tub with him. He was gentle in washing his hair and body, letting him basically be asleep through it all.

“You learn your lesson?” He asked as Dick was basically asleep on his chest. He was quiet for a moment, Bruce assuming he’d fallen back asleep. “...I guess.” He said with a mild shrug. “Matches was kinda hot though.” He got a pinch to his leg. “Ow!”

“Remind me to punish you more thoroughly next time if you’re going to behave that way.” Dick snorted, being a cheeky little thing. “Okay, but is it really going to matter if it’s you or Matches or Batman?” Bruce frowned. “You could at least humor me and _say_ you’ll attempt to not do it again.” He pushed his lips to the side. “...But that’s lying- and I can’t lie to you.” He purred, truly a kitten in nature and conniving stereotype. Bruce sighed, tipping his head back. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Dick let out a little hum, pressing himself against his chest again and passing out within moments.


End file.
